


Brief Kink Meme Fills

by speccygeekgrrl



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Shorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: Just a collection of fills from the Star Trek Kink Meme in 2009 that I thought were funny/cute enough to bother assembling.





	1. Spectacular

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was glasses!kink, Spock gets them, Kirk loves them. COME ON. Like I could pass that by.

The turbolift doors slide open. Jim doesn't have to turn to know who's stepped onto the bridge; there's only one person on duty who hasn't already been acknowledged by the captain.

"Mr. Spock. I'm surprised, you're usually--" Mid-turn, the words turn to a slight and startled inhalation.

It appears that his First Officer has finally failed a test. It just happened to be an eye exam. Spock's lips press together, the slight lift of his chin like a dare, _go ahead, I know you're going to mock me, I don't care._ Mocking is the last thing on Jim's mind. The glasses somehow fit Spock's angular face perfectly, thin metal frames that hold the sides and bottom of the lenses while leaving the tops clear. It's a strange design, one that accommodates the Vulcan's distinctive brows and adds an entirely unnecessary dose of gravitas to his solemn mien.

Kirk finds himself suddenly and unaccountably entertaining a number of fantasies-- Spock's dark eyes looking up at him over the lenses while on his knees before Jim; light glinting off them and sweat fogging them up as Spock's face flushes green with pleasure, pinned under Jim's body; gently removing them from Spock's pointed ears, letting his fingers play over the sensitive tips, before folding the arms of the glasses and placing them on a bedside table, settling down to sleep with his beloved-- where did _that_ romantic thought come from?

He swallows, knowing full well there's a blush rising to his cheeks, and he still hasn't looked away from Spock, who's looking back at him with one eyebrow raised curiously.

"You were saying, Captain?" Was he? What was he even thinking before Spock walked in?

"The glasses suit you," he says, not answering the question but honest anyhow. "Very scholarly."

"The association of spectacles with intelligence is a stereotype," Spock answers, but maybe, maybe that's the tiny quirk of a smile at the corner of his lips. He nods at Kirk and takes his place at his station. Kirk stares at the viewscreen blankly, aware that he's going to be wrecked for focus at least for the rest of the shift.


	2. Acronyms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was _Kirk's mouth (take that as you will)_. WELL.

It's not logical to waste time during a meal, but Spock picks up on a lot of intra-ship gossip while lingering over a cup of tea or some sweet dessert. Because he prefers to dine alone, he's free to pay attention to other conversations. Usually the topics are work, the quality of the food, and the attractiveness of other crew members or various celebrities.

He always pays more attention to the rumors about Captain Kirk. Most of the time, they're profoundly unbelievable. Occasionally he gains some insight about the young officer, and that's not always a positive thing.

So while he's eating ice cream one delicate spoonful at a time, he hears "Kirk" from by the 3-D chess set and starts paying attention.

_Have you ever seen him when he's just thinking? Staring off into the distance. Gad, his eyes._

_Eyes nothing, the Captain's got a sweeter pair of DSLs than Nurse Chapel._

_Looks aren't everything. Then again, he is kind of a slut, isn't he?_

_Have you seen him flirting lately? It's all for show. I think the CO and the XO are MFEO._

_You're full of shit!_

Spock's brows pulled together slightly. CO and XO were Commanding and Executive Officers, but the other acronyms eluded him. Of course, Uhura was the person to ask for definitions.

"Did you just... no, I need some context." Uhura's averted eyes and quirked lips indicated that she was repressing laughter. Spock didn't know what was so funny.

"The crewman said that the captain was in possession of a pair of DSLs," he said, and frowned the slightest bit when Uhura covered her mouth and broke into chuckles. "I fail to understand--"

"You might not want to," she interrupted, eyes sparkling. "Sir."

"I would not have asked had I not wished to know, Lieutenant." She still wouldn't meet his eyes, but did take a moment to compose herself.

"I believe the crewman in question was suggesting that Captain Kirk has dick-sucking lips, sir." Spock's eyebrows rose, and Uhura continued. "MFEO likely means made for each other, in the context of gossip. Will that be all, sir?"

"Quite. Thank you, Lieutenant." She had just been relieved of duty; he was headed toward the bridge, and was met in the turbolift by the same topic of discussion, who offered Spock a cheery smile.

"Staff evaluations are beginning tomorrow. Don't forget." Not likely. Why Kirk should be so excited about a vital but admittedly tedious task was beyond Spock's understanding. It wasn't until Kirk said his name that Spock realized he'd neglected to answer. "What it is? Do I have something on my--?" He wiped at his lips with the back of his hand, then offered a playful pucker. "Did I get it?"

"There is nothing on your mouth," Spock said, and Kirk nodded.

"Thanks. Nothing worse than people staring at you for something like that."

The turbolift doors opened, and Spock followed Kirk onto the bridge. Taking his seat at the science station, he couldn't help casting one more glance back at the captain.

Well. The crewman may not have been speaking from empirical evidence, but that did not affect the fact that Jim Kirk did have a very fuckable-looking mouth.


	3. Checkup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was _annual physicals on the Enterprise_.

"You know the drill," McCoy said, rounding the corner with his eyes on a PADD and his lips set in a scowl. "Honest to god, you'd think the protocols on tool sanitation in Engineering might sink in _before_ half the division become latent carriers of Tellarite pox."

"I believe the spread of that contagion is better explained by the party Mr. Scott threw upon reaching warp 9.6 last week," Spock suggested, already stripped to the waist and standing next to the biobed. "The likelihood of drinking games during an engineering party is nearly 100%."

"Don't tell me I've got to screen you for it, too." Medical scanner wielded threateningly in his right hand, McCoy set down the PADD and stalked toward Spock with something that could be medical efficiency, or possibly predatory glee. "On the biobed, if you please."

Spock was probably the only crew member who didn't complain about the semiannual physical mandated by Starfleet; even the nurses grumbled about having to deal with the reluctant crew. McCoy didn't get the fuss. After all, 200 years ago physicals were often an invasive process, but modern technology made it quick and simple. He knew it was just typical Vulcan pragmatism, not any thoughtfulness toward the doctor's irritation, but McCoy appreciated Spock's lack of complaints.

"Pulse 247, blood pressure 37 over 18, brain activity perfectly standard for you..." Briskly, McCoy ran one hand over Spock's right side, careful over a fist-sized bruise. "That rib's healed up well. How's the pulled muscle?"

"Nearly healed. The remaining discomfort is minimal." Spock presented his arm for a blood draw as soon as McCoy brought out the needle, glancing away as the point slid under his skin. God knew he'd been stuck a million times in his life-- the scientific aspect being just another reason it was hard to be the first Vulcan-human hybrid-- but McCoy was always slightly surprised that his verbal needling had no effect but a tiny prick could still draw a reaction. "If that is all--"

"Did I say you're done? Sit." Popping the vial into the wall slot by the biobed readout to be sent to the labs, McCoy leaned against the bed and frowned down at Spock. "I don't like the way your body fat percentage's been trending downward the past couple of checkups. Healthy for Vulcans is around 15%, you've been declining from 12% last year to about 8% now."

"This isn't a serious issue." Spock made to sit up, but didn't resist when McCoy pressed him back down.

"Oh yes it is. You never regained what you lost during that clusterfuck of a mission on Delta Draconis II, even when I told you that you need to eat more." Spock arched an eyebrow; McCoy matched it with a scowl to go along. "I'm prescribing dessert every day. And I don't mean a piece of fruit, unless it's surrounded by sugary filling and crust."

"I dislike pie." McCoy rolled his eyes and huffed.

"Goddammit, Spock. Don't make me have to order one of the nurses to spoon feed you ice cream or cake or some such on a daily basis." There was definitely a hint of a smile around the Vulcan's lips, a hint that pulled an answering playfulness into McCoy's expression.

"It's doubtful any of them would enjoy such a duty. It may be a task better suited to your own hands, Doctor."

"No one would ever believe me if I told them how incorrigible you are," McCoy muttered, and Spock nodded serenely. "Well then. I'll send you your test results, and see you for dinner at 1930?"

"Acceptable." Hopping off the biobed gracefully, Spock froze at the touch of McCoy's lips on the nape of his neck before pulling his shirts back on one layer at a time.

"Just you wait. Is it true that Vulcans get tipsy on chocolate cake?"

McCoy didn't get an audible answer, but the bright green flush on the points of Spock's ears as the Vulcan beat a hasty retreat was answer enough. Oh, it was going to be fun getting Spock healthy... that is, if all the calories weren't burned off by the hour after dessert.


	4. Role Reversal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was _McCoy needs a doctor_.

There was nothing wrong with being a doctor. Being a doctor was _great_. Saving lives, being respected, able to shut anyone up with a well-aimed hypo... yeah, it was good to be a doctor.

It was much worse to be a patient. Worst of all was trying to tell someone else how to play doctor while he was stuck being the patient, reaching for procedure through a fog of pain, keeping his own eyes open through sheer stubbornness and the thought _if I die now, Spock will have won the last argument_. "Gotta set the, hnn, regenerator on low--"

"Do not speak," Spock said, far too calmly for McCoy's liking-- he could at least be a little worried, couldn't he?-- as he did just that, blood from McCoy's sliced arm red on his hands and staining the silver of the medical device as he kept pressure on the doctor's severed vein. Stuck in the mental limbo of rapid blood loss, all McCoy could think was that Spock might have surgeon's hands, but his bedside manner was shit. "The vein is repaired. What next?"

"Just keep on putting pressure..." He was still losing blood, but he wouldn't die from it in the next few minutes, so he was winning for now. "Goddammit, I hate these mudball planets."

"Yes, so you have said. Many times in the past hour," Spock pointed out dryly, and he wiped one hand on his shirt before pushing McCoy's hair out of his face. "Focus, Doctor. We will be rescued shortly. You cannot lose consciousness."

Oh, there was the worry. No wonder he didn't see it before, when Spock had been focused on his injury; it was all in the Vulcan's eyes. "S'pose Kirk's gonna make it there any second."

"Undoubtedly. The Captain would not miss an opportunity to cause a commotion." McCoy revised his estimation-- he had to be delirious with shock to think that Spock was making jokes. "As soon as the dampening field projector is demolished--"

"Excellent timing, Spock," McCoy managed at the sound of a massive explosion to the west. Spock didn't hear, already flipping his communicator open.

"Two to beam up _now_. Have a medical team ready." Hand still wrapped tightly around McCoy's arm, Spock met the doctor's eyes again. This time, the emotion in them was beyond McCoy's ability to read. As the golden light of the transporter beams surrounded them, though, McCoy could have sworn that the Vulcan smiled.


End file.
